no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw
by hystericalcheezit
Summary: Stiles and Derek have saved each others' lives five times (if you round down)


Stiles and Derek have saved each others' lives five times (if you round down).

There's the first time, with bullets and threats of arm-hacking, an assist by the one-and-only Scott Mccall. Cut to several days later and it gets even, Derek rescuing Stiles from his murderous - or at least psychotic - uncle Peter. Momentarily, anyway.

There's the second time, in the pool, where even after holding him up for two hours, the werewolf couldn't trust the skinny, teenaged boy.

Was it because he thought he didn't deserve to be saved?

(The third time could have been in the bank vault, if he and Peter had worked it out sooner. If they had called sooner. Though it probably wouldn't have changed a thing.)

(He sometimes wonders if he could've saved Boyd's life, too, completely unreasonably. Wonders if he could've given something more than a hand on Derek's shoulder that night.)

(Mild insanity in his gut. Wants to go back in time and save Derek the heartache of blue eyes. Wants to save him a lot of things. But then maybe he wouldn't be the same "sourwolf" that he is now. Too many things would have been different.)

(He still kind of bets the end result would have been the same.)The third time is smaller than the ones before and after it. It's slapping him awake in that elevator, urging him out before the cops rush in. It's Derek snapping alert and catching his wrist and just staring at one another.

It's Stiles's heart beating hard, his breath coming hard.

It's croaking out the words, "Scott is gone," followed by, "Scott's mom is  
gone."

He wants to rip himself to shreds. He wants to rip Deucalion and Jennifer  
to shreds.

(Time 3.5 is _chaos has come_ and being scared and terrified and hurting people, scaring people. His best friend drags him back, he comes to and a lookalike him has made off with the girl he's loved since before he knew anything. They rescue her, and the first girl Scott has ever loved - his first true love, and maybe he loved her before he really knew anything either- is lost. Another fight ensues and out in the background Derek and the twins keep more darkness from swarming, but really it's silver that saves the day. Stiles is begrudgingly grateful in Isaac Lahey's general direction.

Then later on Dream!Stiles tells Derek that it's, shit, _real_ and, yeah, Stiles likes to take credit for that one even though it's really Derek's own psyche that deserves it.)

The fourth time is racing after a werejaguar that's - well, hey, Kate Argent is not so dead after all. Stiles uses his (mad skills) intellect to help track her down when the wolves' sense of smell isn't much use. He drags Derek out of the way of gunfire and Chris Argent has to put a bullet in his sister's brain and put her body in the ground, permanently this time, they hope.

Everybody gets stitched up. Everybody goes home. Stiles spends a little time at Derek's house and falls asleep there. Derek jerks awake in the middle of the night, eyes flashing blue and sprouting rad facial hair and killer fangs. Stiles whispers his name and sets a hand on his shoulder and, hey, is this trust? does this mean they trust each other? 'cause it's kinda nice.

Derek closes his eyes, slumps a little, collapses back onto the couch. Stiles scoots close this time and Derek puts his arm around them. In the morning he's a little sore but, really? Worth it.

The fifth time is kind of more a suggestion of life-saving and is certainly not as desperate.

They're at the animal clinic. The sheriff walks in. Stiles is sitting on the operating table and Derek and Scott and Isaac are arguing about  
_something_, and it is far too much testosterone, even for Stiles.

But the Sheriff walks in and Deaton's explaining something about mountain ash, and he narrows his eyes at his son. Stiles can't figure out why for a second, and then he realises: Derek's hand is on his shoulder and lightly massaging. Stiles's face goes red and he doesn't say anything because he _knows_ it would just be stupid. But Derek notices the shift in his body temperature and peers at him.

"Why are you blushing?" he asks, then looks up and sees Stilinski staring there. His hand freezes and - why are they overreacting, it's not like they're _kissing_, and Scott and Isaac are _right there_! - he says, "Hello, Sheriff."

"Afternoon, Derek," Stilinski replies and, uh oh, Stiles recognises that voice. It's the _give me a second I'm about to dig really deep here_ voice.

Stiles slides off the table. "Gotta go, uh...Dad. Have...things..." And he waves for Derek to follow and deftly dodges his father and the vet and out into the sunlight.

He bursts into laughter and leans against the wall. Derek squints at him, judge-y. Stiles points a finger at him. "Don't. He was going to eat you alive. I just saved your ass."

Derek scowls but says, "Again," in a light tone.

Stiles grins. "You bet. Werewolves are helpless creatures."

He rolls his eyes.

"What! It's true! No self-preservation skills. The alarm system on your  
loft is a joke-"

"There's nothing wrong with my-"

"I mean, _how_ many times has it been broken into? How many times have you been attacked there? Sorry to break it to you, Derek, but I think it's time to move on."

"Should I crash in your bedroom?" asks Derek dryly. "Is that what you're suggesting?"

Stiles shrugs, pushing himself off the wall. "My father _is_ the sheriff..."

Suddenly Derek is grinning and - okay, it's nice when he does that, even nicer since he's been doing it much more often. "Are you going to say something now about how I need to stay away or else he'll lock me up?"

"Please." Stiles snorts. "You've been in chains so often I bet you don't even notice anymore."

"Bad Luck Alpha," Derek muses. He leans closer and his teeth are white and, god, he smells like earth. How is that a turn-on? "I think I've had good luck with you."

"Mmm. Yeah. I'm good luck. I am..." he licks his lips, staring at Derek's, which is, whoops, possibly a little bit too obvious "...what am I?"

"Talkative," answers Derek. "Sarcastic. Annoying. Flail-y. Energetic. Stupid-"

Stiles glares, dragging his gaze upwards.

"That's not very nice-"

"-but it's grown on me," he finishes, and then he's kissing him and - oh. He's gentle about it, and his beard scratches quite pleasantly, and his fingers curl against Stiles's cheek. Stiles sinks into him and lets out a moan - probably loud, is that loud? it's broad daylight, for christ sakes - as Derek's tongue parts his lips. His knees tremble and he grabs at Derek's shoulders, and Derek grumbles low in his throat, and, yeah, that drills right into the pit of Stiles's stomach.

The sheriff takes that precise moment to stride out of the building.

Maybe Stiles hasn't saved Derek this time, after all.


End file.
